


Boys Like Me

by Dryad



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lyric Wheel, Possibly Triggering, Strong R to eventual NC17, casefile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:52:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Lewis got the bit between his teeth, the only thing<br/>you could do was hang on for the ride, because he never gave up the<br/>reins until he was satisfied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Like Me

~*~

Hathaway hated rape cases.

The body was face down in the primroses. Trousers off, bloated hands  
tied tightly behind the back, scalp lacerated and bloodied. Plain black  
 _vestis talaris_ rucked up around the waist, one black sock half off the  
foot, the other missing entirely. Pants unaccounted for, probably  
taken by the rapist as a souvenir.

"Poor bugger," Dutton said, coming to stand next to Hathaway and  
glancing sidelong at the cigarette in his hand. "I'm dying for a fag."

Wordlessly Hathaway offered one up, lighter too, because he just  
wanted Dutton to get the hell away before he was forced to make an  
insult sound like an innocuous comment. For some reason he was  
never able to get away with it the way Robbie did. Maybe that was  
because Robbie was Robbie, and Hathaway was just an over-  
educated git.

Or so he'd heard.

"Ta. _Christ_ , it's cold. Bloody winter, my least favorite season,"  
commented Dutton. He inhaled deeply, blew out the smoke with a  
long, satisfied exhale. "Right. I'm off. Guv wants me to check the CCTV.  
See you back at the station."

Hathaway managed a polite nod. In his short time with Thames  
Valley Police, Hathaway had never met anyone with less sense of  
propriety than Paul Dutton. He never cracked jokes at crime scenes  
like the rest of them did, never got upset at the deaths of children,  
never seemed to be particularly bothered by anything, ever. He was  
weird, and creepy, and made Hathaway feel more like a member of  
 _Homo Sapiens Sapiens_ than anyone else save Robbie.

"Sergeant Hathaway, we've got a name," called Charlie Choi, who had  
13 years experience as a SOCO and was, besides Dr. Hobson,  
Hathaway's personal favorite. "Ian with an extra i Garvey, 48.  
Driver's licence lists Weston-super-Mare as home."

Hathaway took the open wallet, leafed through it efficiently.  
Iain with an extra i had 100 quid in his billfold, pictures of himself and  
two other men, one older, the other younger. Family, perhaps - no.  
Judging by the third picture, the younger was definitely not family,  
not unless they were Naturists with very strange ideas of what made  
for appropriate public photography. Old identification to work off-  
shore, various return ticket stubs (who kept those?), library card for  
the Bod, a torn sheet of paper with a name and address scribbled on it,  
several business  
cards.

"You all right?"

Hathaway jerked away from the gentle touch to his elbow, managed a  
strangled, "Fine."

Lewis frowned but nodded anyway, plainly humoring him, except he  
was not amused. Not amused at all. Hathaway had seen that look  
plenty of times before, though not usually directed at himself. Because  
for all that Lewis was not an intellectual, he knew people, could worm  
their secrets out with his kindness and compassion. Hathaway had  
never understood how people missed the rigid, unceasing quest for  
justice beneath the soft exterior. Once Lewis got the bit between his  
teeth, the only thing you could do was hang on for the ride, because he  
never gave up the reins until until he was satisfied.

And Hathaway knew from personal experience just how  
uncomfortable that could be. "What are you thinking, sir?"

Lewis shook his head. "There's something off about this, something  
not right."

"Nothing's right about this, sir."

Lewis grimaced. "You know what I mean. Doesn't it strike you odd  
that this should happen where anyone could come across the crime in  
progress?" he motioned towards the path, the fields beyond. "It's  
hardly the center of Oxford, but plenty of folk walk their dogs around  
here, take exercise. It stinks."

Hathaway was tempted to quote Hamlet, thought better of it. Lewis  
wouldn't appreciate it (he didn't think) and he wasn't really in the  
mood, either.

"Are you going to be okay working on this case?"

Well, that was to the point. Obviously Lewis wasn't going to  
pussyfoot around like the last time. And in truth, Hathaway couldn't  
be upset about it. He deserved whatever treatment Lewis saw fit to  
administer, up to and including removal or reassignment. "I didn't  
know him, sir, if that's what you're asking."

"Good. See what you can find out about him, I'm heading over to  
Christ Church."

"Sir," Hathaway reached out to keep Lewis from stepping away. "If  
you don't mind, I'd rather go to Christ Church myself." Again with the  
look. Assessing his fitness for this duty. "I swear I'll keep close, sir."

"See that you do, James. I'm not pulling you out of a burning building  
again."

Which was a complete and utter lie, and both of them knew it.  
Hathaway allowed the slightest quirk of an eyebrow, watched Lewis'  
face change from stern to fond exasperation.

"Oh, away with you," said Lewis, waving one hand at him. "And keep  
me apprised of anything, anything that should come up."

Hathaway nodded, shivering a little as the breeze picked up. There  
was no need to tell his DI that while he didn't know Garvey  
personally, he had his suspicions about what had happened to him,  
and that there were more bodies to come.

No.

Not yet.

 

~*~ fin ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the first Lewis Lyric Wheel 'Scene from a Casefile'
> 
> So, um, yeah. I had this great idea, and then realized it's not something  
> to be dealt with in short fiction. Which I'm rubbish at, anyway.  
> Consider this...a prologue, if you will, with the rest to come in...2013.  
> Sorry. I'm a slow writer and what with Real Life I just don't have the  
> time to spend writing any more, at least not when I could spend 8  
> hours a day on it. Also, I have some researchin' to do, on a personally  
> completely beyond unfamiliar topic.
> 
>  _'Practical Aspects of Rape Investigation: A Multidisciplinary_  
>  Investigation, 3rd Ed'. - Roy Hazlewood & Ann Burgess. CRC Press.  
> 2001\. A fascinating behind the scenes glimpse of Rape Investigation.  
> Not for the faint of heart, or those who have experienced such trauma  
> (although it might perhaps be enlightening as to the legal aspects of  
> evidence gathering and historical attitudes towards rape). There are  
> no pictures or diagrams in this book, but it is a distressing read.
> 
> Lyrics courtesy of Sysann:
> 
> Emilie Autumn - I Want My Innocence Back
> 
> "I want my innocence back  
> And if you can't give it to me  
> I will cut you down  
> And I will run you through  
> With the dagger you sharpened  
> On my body and soul  
> Before you slit me in two  
> And then devoured me whole
> 
> (chorus)  
> I want my innocence back  
> I want my innocence back  
> I want my innocence back  
> I want my innocence back  
> I want my innocence back  
> I want my innocence back
> 
> I want my innocence back  
> And if you can't pacify me  
> I will break your bones  
> You think I'm bluffing just try me  
> I will never forget  
> The words you used to ensnare me  
> Till my dying day  
> You'll suffer for this I swear
> 
> (chorus)
> 
> And I demand  
> You put my heart back in my hand  
> And wipe it clean  
> From the mess you made of me  
> And I require  
> You make me free from this desire  
> And when you leave, I'd better be the innocent  
> I used to be
> 
> (chorus)


End file.
